AN: This is really probably just crackfic, but I can't help but play with this three, it would seem, in a million different ways. This is just for fun, so if you read, please don't take it too seriously.
I own nothing from Star Trek.
I hope you enjoy! If you do, please let me know!
111
It was early, still, for the sunset.
The sun on Chaltok IV was never too strong. It was nothing like the harsh sun on Romulus. The soft sunshine on Chaltok IV, really, reminded Laris of autumn in the vineyard.
"Something else to drink?"
She turned and instinctively smiled at the waitress that was circling around the outside patio, serving drinks and offering other items from the bar.
"Another would be nice," she said, gesturing toward her almost empty glass.
"Same thing—we've got a full bar," the woman said.
"I'm happy with this, thank you," Laris said. She got a nod from the waitress. She sighed, sat back in the chair, and closed her eyes for a moment before looking back out over the horizon where the beautiful sunset would fill her senses in a few hours.
He said he'd be early, but Laris wondered if he'd come at all.
She wouldn't blame him, if he didn't come.
Everyone struggled with their demons—the dark pieces of their past—and Jean-Luc was no exception. Laris had known that loving him was a risk she was taking, and she'd waded into it with both eyes open. She had known about Beverly before she'd ever known her name. In many ways, she'd been living with her—or a shadow of her—since she'd met Jean-Luc.
He'd told her about Beverly the first night that they'd made love. He'd confessed her like a man confessing his deepest sins in the afterglow of their first time together. He had loved Beverly. He loved her still. He'd thought they might be lovers, once upon a time but, somehow, that had gone awry. He hadn't understood, then, what had happened.
He had never quite healed. He still felt very broken.
Laris had accepted the pieces, and she'd lovingly promised him that they'd put them back together as well as they could.
Laris could live with Beverly, in whatever form she took.
Romulan marriages were trust bonds. They were formed of three individuals traditionally. Whether or not they chose to reside together, at all times, was up to the members of each trust bond. Laris and Zhaban had lost their mate early in their marriage—yet another casualty of the Tal Shiar—and they'd never taken another into their bond. They'd found it unnecessary. By the time they might have considered it, Romulus was no more, the Tal Shiar was fractured, and they were refugees. Besides, Jean-Luc's presence in the Château had been enough to keep them from feeling they required a third to ensure truth in their relationship.
Laris had finally said as much, and a bit more about trust bonds, to Jean-Luc in his last communication with her—the one where he'd told her what day to reserve this seat for him.
She'd reserved the table. There was room for one more.
If he didn't come, though, Laris wouldn't hold it against him. She would understand that there was still much that he needed to work out. There was a great deal that he needed to come to terms with and, from what she understood, there was a great deal with which Beverly also needed to come to terms.
Romulans, in general, didn't care for being alone, but Laris wasn't exactly alone—not even if Jean-Luc never came.
Laris's daydreams were interrupted with the return of the waitress that placed another glass in front of her.
"Thank you," Laris said.
"There's someone asking for you," the waitress said. "We have a zero-harassment policy—if you're not expecting anyone."
Laris raised up in her chair and looked around the woman. Her heart came to nearly a screeching halt. It wasn't fair, she thought, that love and fear could feel so interchangeable.
She forced a smile.
"I know him," she told the waitress. "Thank you."
The waitress left as Laris got to her feet. She wasn't vain, really, but she supposed that every woman, of every species, had their moments of vanity. She wondered how she looked. She wondered if the outfit she'd chosen—meant to be casual, since the bar was casual—was the right one to choose when he hadn't seen her for nearly five months. It was loose and comfortable, but not entirely unflattering, she hoped. She wondered what she looked like in his eyes, now that he had the love of his life at his side once more.
And she drew in a breath, put on a smile, and reminded herself that he'd told her just a few nights ago that nothing had changed—except, of course, everything.
Laris gathered herself up. She gathered up everything inside of her. She put the best smile she could on her face—a smile to welcome him back and a smile to welcome Beverly into Laris's life for the first time.
Jean-Luc reached her first. He held her hands in his and leaned to kiss her—not her cheek, Laris noticed. She returned the kiss, allowing it to linger however long he might want. She smiled at him when the kiss broke.
"The trip was uneventful?" She asked.
"The calmest day we've known in months," he assured her.
"And—Vadic?" Laris asked.
"Won't be a problem any longer," Jean-Luc said.
"So—it's all done, then?" Laris asked.
Jean-Luc laughed.
"It's a story for another time, perhaps, but I suppose you know as well as I do that it's hardly done," Jean-Luc said.
"There's the fall-out, of course," Laris said. "The emotions. The healing that's to be done when the battles lost or won. But, at least the battle's over."
"For better or for worse," Jean-Luc said.
"You've won the war," Laris said. "Claim the victory, Jean-Luc."
Laris leaned and kissed him, this time, pressing her lips affectionately to the corner of his mouth. He turned to try to capture her lips, but she was already pulling away, allowing their lips to only briefly brush against each other. She turned and looked at Beverly Crusher for the first time.
She could have told the woman that she'd been sleeping with her ghost for years, but what would that accomplish?
Her first impression was that Beverly was beautiful. Her second impression was that she looked tired—truly exhausted—and she was much too thin. Neither of these things were things that couldn't be easily remedied, however.
"You must be Beverly," Laris said, offering her hands out to take Beverly's.
Beverly smiled a tired smile.
"Laris?" She asked. Laris smiled and nodded.
"Jean-Luc has told me a great deal about you," Laris said. "And—about your son."
Laris realized she hadn't offered a seat. She turned, quickly, and gestured toward the table, tugging Beverly's hand.
"Please, sit," Laris said.
"Our son," Jean-Luc said, sitting across the table from Laris, effectively seating Beverly between the two of them. Laris sat in her own seat and gestured toward the waitress who came, quickly, to take their drink orders.
"Saurian brandy," Jean-Luc ordered.
"That will be fine," Beverly said. "I normally don't drink something so heavy, but…"
"You're among friends," Laris said. "And—you're safe."
"Champagne?" Jean-Luc asked, gesturing toward Laris's glass.
"Ginger ale," she said. "Someone has to make sure that we all make it back to the house safely." She saw them exchange a look. "Was I wrong to assume that—you will be staying with me?"
"I wouldn't want to impose," Beverly said quickly.
"The house I've taken here has plenty of room," Laris said. "And Number One and I will be happy to have company. Besides—I was under the impression that you and Jean-Luc had entered into something of a relationship. That you were…lovers…again. Am I…being too direct?"
Jean-Luc cleared his throat. Beverly's cheeks pinked slightly. They exchanged a quick look.
"I never wanted to cause any problem between you," Beverly said, clearly searching for her words.
"And you haven't," Laris said. "I'm sure, if you hadn't noticed, that Jean-Luc told you that I'm a Romulan."
"I knew that," Beverly said. "Besides, of course, that it's rather obvious."
Laris laughed to herself.
"Then, you must also know that it is our custom to enter into trust bonds. Our relationships traditionally involve three individuals."
"I've heard that," Beverly said with a nod, "though Romulans are, on the whole secretive about their relationships and their culture."
"Only to a degree," Laris said. "I suppose, then, the only question that remains is…if the two of you are comfortable with that arrangement. There I go again, I'm sure, being a touch too direct, but…we don't want to spend another twenty years trying to work out the details. Of course, if you're not comfortable, I'll understand that, too. It isn't your custom."
"It is some people's custom," Jean-Luc offered.
"Thank you for offering me a place to stay," Beverly said.
"But—you're going to deny, is that it?" Laris asked.
They thanked the waitress for the drinks when she came, interrupting them. Laris ordered another round for her companions before the waitress even left the table.
"Your son…" Laris said.
"Jack," Beverly said.
"It's a diminutive of John," Jean-Luc offered.
Laris smiled.
"Named after his father, then," Laris said.
Beverly sighed. Laris reached and touched her hand, gesturing her to drink the brandy in front of her. She did drink it—half the drink in one swallow that clearly burned, given her expression. Laris wondered how much ale a woman so thin could drink. It didn't matter—let her drown her sorrows however she needed. Let her celebrate finally being able to put down a weight she'd been carrying a long time, alone…a weight that still bent her shoulders slightly.
Laris was strong enough, physically and otherwise, to see her home—and she'd already determined that she would do so.
"Can I be entirely honest?" Beverly said.
"I wish you would," Laris said sincerely, smiling at the woman to reassure her.
"There's a great deal that I've never dealt with before—that we've never dealt with together," Beverly said. "I'm not certain it's fair to ask someone else to deal with that. It's not your burden to shoulder."
"Maybe you misunderstand," Laris said. "I'm inviting myself into the middle of it all. Your past mistakes and relationship struggles, no matter what they may be, won't possibly be the most difficult thing I've ever dealt with in my life."
When the waitress brought the second round of drinks, Laris gave her a look—an indication that a third round would likely be unnecessary. She didn't think that either of her companions was in the condition to make it through much more of the strong brandy.
The arrival of the second drink meant that Beverly finished the first, as did Jean-Luc.
"You have a great deal that you need to deal with," Laris said. "There's a lot to process. Whatever you decide, for your future, I would like to offer you a place to safely, and comfortably, deal with your past and present."
"And Jack…"
"Is welcome whenever he may wish to be there," Laris said. "Later, if we should all return to the vineyard, I'm sure that remains true."
"He is my son," Jean-Luc said.
Laris smiled at him. She knew that Jean-Luc would have a great deal to work through when it came to that revelation. He'd known it for months, but in light of all they'd had to deal with, he hadn't truly had time to sit with it and process it.
"He is, indeed," Laris said. She smiled at Beverly again. She toasted her with her glass, prompting Beverly to take a drink from the second brandy. "And you are his mother—and Jean-Luc's first love." She smiled. "First love is always the sweetest. His greatest love…no doubt. And—I'm OK with that. I want you to know that."
"You are his…" Beverly started. She stopped and Laris caught her eyes, trying to decide if her hesitation was because she was going to be sick—too much very strong brandy on a stomach that clearly hadn't eaten a sufficient amount in a while—or if it was because she wasn't sure what to say. Laris decided it was the latter and relaxed, still leaning close to Beverly. She reached and rested a reassuring hand on the woman's arm.
"I am his—newest love, shall we say," Laris said.
"Laris…" Jean-Luc said.
She smiled at him and shook her head.
"I'm not offended," she said. "You were not my first love, either, Jean-Luc. And there's something to be said for new love, too." He reached a hand toward her and she took it, working it in her own. Laris felt her pulse flutter as it picked up speed. For the briefest second, she wondered if she'd be sick, herself, without the brandy to hide behind. She washed down the sensation with a sip of her ginger ale and gathered her courage. "And—perhaps, Beverly—you and I have more in common than we even thought."
She let her eyes flick from Beverly to Jean-Luc and back. She sat back in her chair. She held her glass like a security blanket.
"What's that?" Beverly asked, her eyes showing a little of the forced relaxation that the brandy would bring over her as it flowed, as it must be doing now, through her bloodstream. Jean-Luc, too, was a bit more relaxed. Something in her doubted that any of them would see the sunset at the bar, tonight—but there would be other nights, and other sunsets, and the sunset from the house she had taken wasn't terrible, really. The view from the bedroom window, in all sincerity, wasn't much worse than the one from this particular table. It was a view that seemed much more probable for this night.
Laris found that she naturally felt affection for both of the people who looked at her and waited for her to continue speaking. She was happy for that affection, and she smiled at the warm sensation.
"You are the mother to Jean-Luc's son," Laris said. "And—if tricorder readings are to be trusted, it seems that…I may be, too, in time." She could see their expressions change as they both tried to understand what she'd said. "Jean-Luc once told me that…he didn't need a legacy." Laris laughed quietly to herself. "It seemed too early, then, to mention it. A little…discomfort. A little blip on a screen. Too much worry for something that may…or may not…come to pass. As it turns out, though, he's hardly ever really been at risk of not having a legacy—not really."
"Laris…" Jean-Luc said.
"Finish your drinks. We've got a lot to discuss, but—I think it might be better to do it somewhere more comfortable," Laris said. "And a bit more private. The walls have ears, you know." She winked at both of them. "And—Beverly? You're in no condition to go anywhere tonight or to organize a place to stay. You're going home with me. With us. And there's no need to argue. I won't hear a word of it—not even with my big ears."
Beverly smiled at her. It was still a tired smile, but it was nothing that a little food, a little rest, and a chance to find some peace couldn't fix.
"I can see what you see in her," Beverly said to Jean-Luc.
For his part, he still looked a little pale, but Laris knew that he'd over that, too, with the opportunity to rest and soak in everything.
"You've only just begun to scratch the surface," Jean-Luc offered.
"We've got plenty of time for digging deeper," Laris teased, finishing her ginger ale and waving the waitress down to let her know that their tab could be closed and her account could be charged for the credits.